


Too Much Love...

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Affection, Band Break Up, Band Fic, Brian just wants to help and he's trying so hard, Brotherly Love, Character Study, Crying, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Final performance, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, John Deacon is not doing very well, John Needs A Hug, John is hurting, John loves Freddie so much, Minor Swearing, Protective Roger Taylor (Queen), References to Depression, Roger is genuinely a sweetheart ok, Sadness, This is sad as hell, Ugh guys this hurts I am so sorry, Why Did I Write This?, it's so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 03:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: But life still goes on; I can't get used to living without, living without, living without you by my side... I don't want to live alone, no! - John Deacon, 'I Want To Break Free'John Deacon is playing 'The Show Must Go On' with his band brothers and Freddie's dear friend Elton, and he knows what he has to do.(Or, a scene that takes place during and after Deacy's final live performance with Queen and Elton John performing 'The Show Must Go On' in 1997)





	1. Chapter 1

_I'm just a shadow of the man I used to be..._

John's fingers fumble across the strings of his bass and he tries to dampen them as usual, but his mouth is too dry. Elton is singing, his powerful voice soars, but he sings the notes lower than Freddie would've--out of respect and love and also because his natural tone is of a lower register (and John cannot help but think, a lesser caliber, and instantly he is ashamed of himself) than Freddie's. Rog and Brian are pouring themselves into this performance the way they always do, and the crowd is loving it, but all John thinks about is Freddie.

 _"I'll fucking do it, darling. Roll the bloody tape."_ John remembers that single take of this magnificent song, of his beloved friend's soaring voice, filling the studio with warmth and life and love though his body had been frail and wrecked and so, so tired. 

_I've been facing this alone for much too long; I feel like no one ever told the truth to me--_

As John plays along with 'Show' now, he hears Freddie's voice again, and with it are Brian's beautiful, haunting, completely apropos words; those heartbreaking lyrics from 'Too Much Love Will Kill You'. Ain't that the ruddy truth; and John cannot bear it. He feels a physical pain around his heart, like he is being stabbed or squeezed too tight, and he feels like he cannot breathe; as Freddie could not, those last moments of his life. No. Stop it, John, finish the song. Come on. He hears Bri and Roger, their voices elevated on the achingly beautiful harmonies they sing together. Always together, they are always together and he feels so alone. So utterly alone.

He knows that is patently unfair; they are hurting just as much as he--but both seem to bear it better. Stubborn, laughing, glowing golden Roger is still so steadfast speaking out and sticking up for Freddie in a way John never could no matter how much he wants to. Roger is forever showing his love. And Brian in his gentleness and decency and intellect, he has causes--to get the word out about AIDS, and protect animals, and take his photographs, and love Space...never mind his commitment to continuing Queen's and Freddie's legacy come hell or high water. He will be okay.

But John has none of those things. He had his music with this band because of all of them, because Roger laughed with him and Brian encouraged and advised and most of all because Freddie, dearest Freddie, believed. And without even one of those facets present, he cannot continue. There is an irreversible, unending ache inside his heart, a hole that cannot be filled. The most that John can hope for, the only way for him to go on is by patching it up. And the only way he can do that is-- 

John's jaw clenches and he closes his eyes during the final lyrics of 'The Show Must Go On' as Elton and Brian and Roger's voices all fade out: _"Show must go on, go on, go on, go on..."_

But no, it can't. Not for John. Not without Freddie. Without him this band is not Queen.

***

_Too many bitter tears are rainin' down on me._

Elton John takes his bow, saying in a rough, choked voice to the audience that they'd been wonderful and it was a privilege to sing this song for someone he--they all--loved so much.

The subtle past tense of the word "loved" shatters the rest of John's already broken heart and after his single sharp bow he is practically running off the stage. Brian smiles with those always-sad eyes of his and waves to the audience, blowing them a kiss as Roger pumps his fist in the air and whoops, that beaming bright smile hiding his own pain. Or perhaps he does not feel this agony that is currently burning its way through John's arteries and veins, immolating him, feeling like the worst and strongest electric shock in the world. John barely has the chance to put his bass in its case on the floor --in fact, he nearly drops it-- before the tears come in a torrent, a deluge, an unstoppable flood filling the darkness backstage.

He hears footsteps and murmurs of the crew and of the boys, and then he feels a looming presence come up beside him. Brian. His gentle voice is breaking as he says "John...oh, Deacy--" and puts a hand on John's nearer shoulder. John jerks away from his touch and whirls, sobbing, light eyes like those of a wounded animal.

"No, Brian. Don't." His words are choked and thick and wrecked and nasal as they crack and crawl out of his closing throat. "I can't do this. Now he's gone, I can't do this anymore." He clams up and turns right into Roger, who had come up on his opposite side. The blond drummer stares at John with those enormous loving eyes that flash through so many emotions and showcase them all, but only like this, silently, without his glasses or any other sort of mask on, with them. Just for his boys. 

There are only the two of them to witness his pain now.

John looks at Roger and then his face crumples completely as he buries his head in the drummer's chest and shirt. Rog's warm arms instantaneously wrap around him and pull him close. John is trembling and Brian is too as Roger lifts his gaze to meet the guitarist's woeful eyes. Offering one hand he pulls Bri into their embrace.

John feels Brian's curls tickle the back of his neck as the other's gangling arms wrap around him hesitantly. He is frozen still and almost comforted by the embrace until he hears Brian sob and feels his lean body shake, and he knows Freddie would hate that. How dare they be weepy little girls without him?! They've got to be happy! The bassist stiffens and draws back, and the other two let him go. Brian is sniffling and swiping shaking fingers across his thin cheeks. Roger leaves one hand resting upon John's left shoulder until John glances sideways at him and the drummer drops his head and removes it. As soon as the warmth departs, John wants it back. He honestly _aches_ , but cannot bring himself to accept or ask for comfort. It will not, cannot bring back Freddie; and without him none of this is okay. He can either have all or none.

"What--what are we doing?!" John whispers, clenching his fists with helplessness, with impotent, irrational rage. "We don't have Freddie so this isn't _Queen!_ " Why don't they see it? John feels as though his entire body is crying out, screaming in agony.

Brian and Roger look at each other and something clenches in John's intestines. He and Freddie could do that once. When he was alive, Fred could gaze at him with such a warm, open expression in those deep brown eyes. John would nod or grin and communicate without needing words. He was energised whenever onstage with Freddie and when Fred rubbed his back or touched his shoulder, it brought John the most comfort in the world. 

And he will never have that comfort again because Freddie Mercury, his dearest friend in the world who had looked after him from the very start, is dead and gone forever. John lets out a keening cry, unintentional but sharp. "...And don't tell me we have to-- 'continue Freddie's legacy', alright? We can do that--we have done that with _Made In Heaven_ , and his voice is still ON that album! This--this band isn't Queen, not without him." His grey-green eyes are glassy, broken and his next words bubble out in a rush: "I'm not saying that Elton did badly, he didn't, he was great, but he isn't Freddie." John chokes up completely, entire body trembling as he covers his face with his hands and whispers "And I can't do any of this without him."

Roger's voice is husky and fragile and thin. John hates doing this to him. "Are you saying what I think you're saying right now, John?"


	2. Chapter 2

John opens his eyes and lifts them to look into Roger's and Brian's. He instantly wishes that he hadn't; both of them appear utterly devastated, destroyed. Brian is pale and his hazel gaze is wet, eyes full of tears and heartbreak. John does not know how he could have not recognised his friend's fragility before now; lines deepen in Bri's cheeks and under those eyes and around his mouth. John thought HE has aged prematurely, but for the very first time as he looks at Brian, he can imagine him as an old man. He looks old now, weary. And Roger... His always open, animated, soft face is stone-still and hard as the drummer swallows and looks away for a moment. Refusing to meet John's eyes is a new action for Roger, and John can hardly bear to do this.

But he knows that he must. He has to speak the truth, and the truth, his truth is "... I'm out," John speaks sorrowfully, quietly. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he makes eye contact with each of them in turn. Oh, how this hurts. He feels as if he is digging into his innards with a rusty knife. "I've--I have to go home to my family. I have to be there for my kids." Brian meets his eyes sharply then, and John can tell from the crinkling skin round Brian's eyes that his friend understands. Now on to Rog. "I can--help with finances," John adds. He has thought about this; he has got to do something, he cannot bear to be idle. Royalties abound and he has kept an eye on his money over the years. "From my house I can maybe help Miami. But I can't do any more of ...this." John's voice fails as he gestures to the physical stage behind him and to the live show life, the tours in general. He wonders if they will ever truly, completely understand this decision.

John studies his feet and feels his heart beating heavily in his chest. He looks back up just as Roger flies at him, filling the younger man's field of vision with that soft white-blond hair. 

Roger's strong drummer's arms encircle John's wiry torso and his high voice murmurs as he holds on tight: "You're the best damned bassist we could've ever had, Deaks. Freddie was so proud of you." His voice cracks as he moves back to look John straight in the face. "I hope you know that, and the fact that he-- that we all love you, so much-- hopefully that... I hope it gives you comfort." He can hardly form the words, but pats John gently on the cheek before stepping back. "Godspeed, buddy."

John's eyes are full of tears as he tries so hard to smile at Roger. His words mean so very much.

He turns to face Brian, who is crying, silently. Tears drip down his face and disappear into his black hair. John's expression puckers in sympathy, but Brian swallows hard and holds out his hand. His grip is warm as John takes it, and those lengthy thin magical fingers are limber and strong as they wrap around his shorter stouter ones. 

Brian's curls wobble and his lips do as he chokes "And if you ever need anything, anything at all, we'll be here for you. Always." 

Roger's facial expression telegraphs his agreement with Brian's words, and John nods. He cannot think of anything else to say. He wonders if Elton John or the crew members heard all of this, or part of it. And if so, how much? And then he pushes that supposition out of his head. It does not matter what anybody heard; he will be going no matter what.

***

John packs up his bass and homemade amplifier, nodding silently to people he passes by to reach the outside door in back of the stage.

Roger offers to call him a cab, and Brian to wait with him for it, but John declines politely. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to make a clean break of this. Make it easier." His voice cracks. Roger bites his lip and nods, and Brian waves. For their restraint and generosity in that, John feels a rush of real affection for these two men who remain so dear to him. He stops in the doorway, shoulders falling as he turns back to face them one more time.

"I love you both," John speaks in that sweet, gentle voice of his. "I still do, so much. I just--" he shrugs and huffs out air, lower lip jutting out and trembling as he tries to make a little joke. "It's time I dry up for good." Expression falling, John bumbles out "Hopefully one day you can forgive me for it." And with that, he departs to catch his cab. 

He is gone before Roger or Brian can assure him of anything--the most important sentiment being that they love him too, and always will. And he does not need to be forgiven because both Bri and Rog understand. No matter how much this hurts, they understand.

And they know that Freddie would too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Queen for being a group of genuinely lovely human beings.
> 
> The idea for this story came after I listened to both Freddie's and Brian's versions of 'Too Much Love Will Kill You'. Both are lovely (and heartbreaking) in different ways. And then I thought of John, and Freddie in particular being his voice. I wanted to write something attempting to honour his decision to leave the band after his dear friend died, as I completely respect it.
> 
> On that note, I've got to rant a bit, I'm sorry. I am tired of seeing comments in other online avenues (not here, all of you are so lovely it honestly makes me want to cry) that are totally disrespectful towards John Deacon's decision to stop touring and distance himself from the band. He has every right to live his life precisely as he wishes, and he gave us twenty plus years of absolutely fabulous music. I personally cannot ask or wish for more than that, and whatever he is doing and wherever he is now, I hope that he is happy and knows he is respected and loved by Queen fans everywhere. Love you John!!! <3 Okay. Rant over.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think. Comments are always appreciated :)


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